a picture thought moment

Nobody whispers her name better than sinned stained lips. But her secrets are only for night ears. She flees before morning with a fond smile. Remembering how lust was very pretty last night with lovely eyes, dark sense of humor, and soft laugh.

Mistress

Maîtresse, embrasse-moi, baise-moi, serre-moi,
Haleine contre haleine, échauffe-moi la vie,
Mille et mille baisers donne-moi je te prie,
Amour veut tout sans nombre, amour n'a point de loi.


Mistress, embrace me, kiss me, hold me tight,
breath against breath, breath me life,
thousand and thousand kisses give me I beg you,
Love wants everything without condition, love has no law

The Aneresick Pianoist

Such lovely piano hands. Smooth ridged bones key the soothing melody of my starving desire. Bathing me in pure thinspiration. I am your biggest fan, oh lovely piano hands.

Dont tap on the glass please and dont Cut my heart open

Her tongue was such a sharp knife. She loved running the dull side of the blade down her pane. All the while tapping the clit clack of her moans in sync to her pouring rain.

Razor blade shouldn't be played with, especially near such one with such an unknown glass. She may get the urge to draw heart on the skin with her warm breath. Though its starting to crack.

Grey tape can fix anything because she knew she will never learns to stop tapping on the past.

Time

She died last night. Or was it this morning? The headache knocking at her skull says it was yesterday evening. With an inhale and a swallow she knew she was dreaming.

Her head is in mourning because of it. Every second was ticking a minute faster than it should. She tried to hang on to the praying hands when they came together at midnight up high and six thirty below. By this time the slurring made it hard for her to be understood.

What was the point of waiting when all she had to do was blink. Patterns of the drifting leaves looked that same as they did last fall. Blink. The wind smell the same. Like dead grass.

Was she asleep?

Mudlove Glue

She was born from a union broken, drowned, and rushed. Pushed through a baby gap of a young mistake. What could have been in the future, a birth done on the white sheets of love, was soiled with the mud of too soon undeveloped feuding blood.

Her and She and He. The present is a gift and she just want to be. Remember her not as the freaky lesbian daughter. For the past is meant to be left behind her as she arches and marches forward searching for her mate, to master and to bait. In order for her to finally cum.

Her spirit is meant to be give to one and only one. But her body tends to get lost in the mix. Searching through many faces, fingers, pleasure and feelings. Her mud is the glue that connects their hearts to others when she is done breaking it.